‘Are they though?’ I snap. Wanting to explain to her how monumentally fucked-up her son is, but managing to hold myself back. ‘Well, this is not your baby,’ I say, more gently, taking Tommy out of her arms. I sit on the sofa, undo my shirt and feed him. I’m trembling, I am so cross. Janet walks over to me and drapes a blanket over my shoulder.

‘There you go,’ she says. ‘To protect your modesty.’

I rip it off immediately. She snarls at me but turns it into a passive-aggressive smile.

‘I just didn’t want you to feel exposed, I can see you’re not back to your pre-baby self yet. Mind you, you’ve always been a little bit …’ Instead of words, she uses her hands to speak for her. And in the air draws the outline of a very curvaceous body.

‘I’m quite proud of my curves, thank you,’ I say, unsnapping the other bra strap, letting my other boob flop free. I sit feeding my baby right in front of both of them. Both of my breasts out and in plain sight. I am in my own home, this is my baby. If they want to have a problem with my body then they can go and sit outside.

There are a few moments of silence. Tommy’s guzzling noises are all we can hear. But I’m not finished.

‘You can’t make decisions like that without me, Michael. It isn’t fair,’ I say.

‘Isn’t fair?’ Janet says, ready to fight. ‘Do you think it’s fair to abandon your baby immediately after he’s born?’

‘I have not abandoned him, I’m working.’

‘Poor Michael, having to do all of this on his own. That isn’t fair,’ she says, in a baby voice, laying her hand on his shoulder, like a supportive lover.

‘Oh, but if it was me sacrificing my business, that would be fair?’

‘You are his mother. It’s your job.’

Janet is the antithesis of a feminist. Misogynistic women are worse than any man. Literally fighting against their own kind. It takes a whole other level of arsehole to pull that off.

‘Some of us have lives beyond our children, Janet. In the long run it will mean they’re better off.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ she says, aghast.

‘Beth, come on. Mum just came round to see Tommy,’ Michael says desperately. He cannot handle confrontation with his mother. He is terrified of her. I am not. If ‘the worst’ happened and we fall out and she never wanted to see me again, fine. That is not a situation I fear. In the meantime, to bridge the gap between that beautiful day and now, I will not be taking parenting advice from someone I consider to be a terrible example.